A lost Alice
In a diagonal Wonderland.
This is me.
That eternal maze of a dream
With drunken mad hatters
Who will vaporize and **** out life
Like a slithering chimera,
And I'll be like that poor white rabbit...
I'm late, I'm late
I'm late, I'm late
I'm late, I'm late
I'm late, I'm dead
For that queen will
Chop me into soup,..
Her cannibalistic tastes
Will watch with drooling joy
And my severed head will roll
Down to the queen's feet...
Let's play croquet
With the silly girl's ****** head
Ha! She laughs with delight
And rolls the head to and fro
In a beautiful lush garden
Cut out the heart! the queen demands
For the crowned woman is worse than
Vladimir the Impaler
And adding a warm heart to the vault
She will have her name strike
fear and lust into men's hearts...
Until they become a vaulted collection...
I'm late, I'm late
I'm late, I'm late
I don't exist
My watch has broken
My ticking heart is no more
And my grinning head stares at the queen's feet...
Wake me up! I scream, I beg
Save me from...
Save me from myself...

Dreams endure, and time hangs.
Intentionally sleeping,
Finite images nudge and lessen.

I just feel like I want to bleed.

Have you ever stared at your skin,
And imagined sweet red,
Tickling as it caressed your skin,
Oozing down,
Leaving trails like tears?
It feels almost cool,
But maybe that's because my veins froze over.
It feels almost calming,
But maybe that's because it's the perfect distraction.

Oh, you haven't felt that way you say?
Well maybe I'm just demented.

An idiot makes the same mistake twice.*

That "fatherly advice" is trapped
within my head,
bouncing back and forth,
causing a headache,
but who's to say that
the mistake isn't the cause
of pulsating temples and closed eyes.
In one ear and out the other,
one could hope for.
But these days it's in
one nostril and down the throat.
Down "****'s Creek" in a soluble boat.

But don't call home.
The heart left.
The telephone has been off the hook--
inanimate objects have it easy.

we were in the back seat of his car the first time that he kissed me. it was sweet and it was young and it was innocent and i couldn't fully focus on it because i heard a song through the speakers on the dashboard and laughed about how wrong the lyrics were when i sang it to myself

take me down to paradise city,
where the tips of his calloused fingers softly run over the tops of mine because he is too shy to actually hold my hand;
                  where the air smells like the ocean and the sky is as bright as his eyes are when he's  
                  passionate about something;
   where the woods are always empty but we still run through them every
   wednesday night because those are the nights that his mother isn't home and his father still
   breaks out tequila and gin because he didn't get the daughter he wanted

oh, won't you please take me home?
and he better not ask me what my address is because he should know that a home is different than a house and my home can be found deep within the far away corners of his wandering mind, and in the valves in his heart which are accompanied by a slow heart rate because he's built like an athlete even though he's too timid to try out for football like his brother did

people usually name islands in the caribbean when asked about paradise, but if the textbook definition is a place of a extreme beauty and happiness, my answer will always be honest when i say that my paradise is anywhere i can get lost with him,

like the back seat of his car